


A Helping Hand

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Come play, M/M, handjob, things that happen in the office
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:25:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond gives Mallory a helping hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Bondkink prompt: Bond/Fiennes!M, handjob. Just a simple one: M's still got his arm in that sling. I'd like to see James give him a helping hand. Whether or not M returns the favor (in one way or another) is up to you.

“How’s the arm, sir?” Bond inquires. Mallory’s not even looking at him, and Bond wants the man to look at him. Well, he wants more than that, but he’ll settle for a look for starters.

Mallory doesn’t notice at first. “Oh, fine. It’ll get better. All pretty shocking for someone unused to fieldwork.” He pauses, picking up the folder from the desk. “So, 007, lots to be done. Are you ready to get back to work?” Now he’s looking at Bond.

“With pleasure, M,” Bond says, then repeats it, “With pleasure.” _Take the bloody hint, for Christ’s sake._

Mallory doesn’t. “Good.” He returns to the file he was perusing.

Bond hesitates. “I suppose it can get awkward.” 

“Mhm, pardon?” Mallory’s still reading the file.

“There must be things that are difficult to... handle,” Bond drifts off as Mallory glances up at him.

Mallory recalls the wink then, not that he ever truly forgot it, but the middle of a gunfight was hardly the right moment to assess the reasoning behind a provocative gesture from a seasoned flirt such as Bond.

“Fortunately, I don’t happen to be left-handed, so things run as smoothly as ever.” He says dryly.

“Even so, it’s still nice to get a helping hand,” Bond observes. “From time to time.”

Mallory’s expression is verging on amused. “You offering?”

Straight to the point. With M, before (Bond's heart aches) it had taken so long, and with good reason. Yet to have a superior just come out with it, well, Bond finds it both arousing and bloody terrifying. The man could have him fired. The man could have his head. The man could have him. 

Bond soldiers on. “Yes.” 

“Well then,” Mallory puts down his file and picks up another. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got?” He carries on reading as Bond slowly walks around the desk. 

Apparently Mallory means it, for he leaves everything to Bond. First there's the unbuttoning of his trousers, then Bond cautiously sticking his hand down inside Mallory’s briefs, drawing him out. The first feel of the man in his fist, before he bumps Mallory back against the desk. 

“Careful,” Mallory complains.

“Sorry, sir.” Bond murmurs. He moves his hand slowly at first, reveling in the heat of the touch. 

“I’d prefer to have my eyes on the door.” Mallory tells him. 

“I’ll keep watch.” Personally Bond wouldn’t mind if someone walked in now, seeing him here, with Mallory’s cock in his grasp, but he has a feeling Mallory might have a different opinion.

“You’re occupied.” Mallory’s still looking at the file in his uninjured hand.

Bond leans in, “I’m very good at multitasking,” his breath grazes Mallory’s cheek. He's careful not to press against the sling.

“Is that right?” Mallory studies the file.

Bond strokes along the underside of his cock, jerking him off in slow, sensuous strokes and Mallory doesn’t make a fucking sound, just keeps reading his file. Bond’s achingly hard, but it seems a tad presumptuous to start rubbing against the man like a dog in heat. Still, that’s what he’d like to do.

When Mallory comes, it’s the most subtle orgasm Bond has ever seen in his life. The man barely moves a muscle, other than his cock thrusting between Bond’s fingers until it’s still. Then, Bond removes his hand and steps back.

Mallory glances down at himself. “It’s fortunate you didn’t get any on my trousers. I have a meeting with the PM this afternoon.” He sets the file down and reaches into his pocket for his handkerchief. When he’s cleaned himself off, he offers it to Bond who shakes his head. 

Instead he raises his hand to his mouth, licking at the mess covering it. 

Mallory stiffens, his focus entirely on Bond now. Bond licks at his palm until it’s clean, then one by one sucks at his fingers, watching Mallory as he does.

“You’re very cocksure, aren’t you?” Mallory buttons his trousers.

“I’m fairly sure it says that in my file, sir.” Bond tells him. And there’s the faint smile he was hoping for. 

“One or two things to that nature.” Mallory replies, holding out the file. “Your assignment, 007.”

“Thank you, sir.” Bond takes it and turns to start for the door.

“007,”

Bond looks back. Mallory’s already seated at his desk, on to the next job. 

“When you return, I would like a full demonstration of your multitasking abilities.” He opens another file, not looking up.

Bond smiles. “With pleasure, M.”


	2. A Leg Up

Bond isn’t sure when his off-duty pursuit became seducing his new superior but it’s a pleasurable one nonetheless. He considers several methods of attack before ultimately discarding them all. It will take something more than that. He’s still mulling it over when he enters Moneypenny’s office.

“He can’t see you now.” Moneypenny doesn’t look up from her laptop, her hands typing busily.

“We have an appointment.” Bond leans on the corner of her desk.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Moneypenny drawls, “But something more important came up.” Her phone rings and she holds up her index finger to shush him before Bond can start to say something more. “Yes, reservation at 7, corner table. Thank you.” She scribbles something across a pad of paper.

“Going somewhere?” Bond inquires casually. He eyes the paper. _Dorchester - 7._

“Not my reservation.” Moneypenny says, eyes back on her screen.

Bond smiles. At least he knows where Mallory will be.

* * *

He waits at the bar, nursing a drink as he waits to see when Mallory arrives and with whom. Frankly, he’s curious. To Bond’s surprise, Mallory emerges from the elevator with another man (greying hair, mid-forties, foreign cut to his suit).

Bond sips his martini and watches as they enter the dining room. He doesn’t think Mallory notices him but a note arrives not five minutes later. There’s an address in Kensington, and beneath that – _Be there when I return._

Bond finishes his drink and goes.

* * *

Mallory’s flat is simple but tasteful. Bond wanders around the sitting room, surveying the art, the bookshelves and the desk. There are too many locked drawers in the desk. The bedroom is neat and tidy, Bond makes a silent promise to himself that he will wake up there one morning and closes the door again. He pours himself a drink from Mallory’s liquor and peruses the bookshelf. He’s reading his way down the rows of titles when the door opens and Mallory enters the flat.

“I trust you looked around to your satisfaction.” Mallory places his keys on his table, setting his briefcase on the floor.

“Quite the library.” Bond nods at the shelves.

“It passes the time.” Mallory hangs up his coat. “I don’t much care for you following me tonight. I suppose you think you interrupted a private rendezvous.”

“That wasn’t my intention.” Bond states, though he’s obviously curious.

“It was a professional meeting with a Russian ambassador. Far less interesting than you imagine,” Mallory fixes him with a stern look. “But I still don’t want to hear it about in the office.”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Why were you there, Bond?”

“You missed our appointment.” Bond reminds him.

Mallory frowns. “You could have given your report to Moneypenny. She would have passed it on. Or merely rescheduled.”

“That’s hardly as personal.”

“Is that what you were after?” Mallory goes to the sideboard to fix himself a drink. “Been working on your multitasking, have you?”

“One doesn’t like to brag.”

“Oh go on.” Mallory says mildly.

“Well,” Bond approaches him languidly. “I would like it on the table that I’m fairly certain I can make you come while keeping you distracted otherwise.”

“Only fairly certain?” Mallory takes a sip of his scotch.

“As I said, one doesn’t like to brag.”

“Go on then.” He reaches over to switch on the stereo and the sweet soft strains of Vivaldi fill the room. Bond draws him over to the sofa. Mallory sits, watching him with amused eyes.

“How’s the arm?” Bond asks, kneeling in front of him.

“Mended. Thank you.”

Bond takes the man’s left hand, running his fingers over the back of it. He raises it to his lips, licking the curve of Mallory’s palm, up between his fingers and sucking Mallory’s index finger into his mouth.

Mallory inhales very softly. It’s the smallest of sounds, but Bond finds it encouragement enough. He does the same with the man’s forefinger and then thumb, not failing to notice the way Mallory’s thumb lingers along his lower lip when Bond allows it to leave his mouth.

Bond smiles up at him (not his full on predatory smile, only a hint of that) and leans in to unzip Mallory’s trousers with his teeth.

“How long did it take you to master that?” Mallory inquires.

“Hours of practice.” Bond licks along the outline of his cock.

“I’m sure it’s very useful.”

Bond sits back. “Lower your trousers. Mallory raises an eyebrow and Bond adds, “Sir.”

Mallory sighs, but stands, sliding his trousers and briefs down in one efficient movement. His cock, now freed, is long and casually interested in the situation at hand.

“May I sit down now?”

“Yes, do.”

Bond places a hand on each knee, laving delicately at the head of Mallory’s cock. He traces light circles along Mallory’s knee with his left hand, feeling the man tense then relax as the motion starts to soothes. Mallory’s thighs spread a fraction wider as he relaxes. Bond drags his tongue along he underside of his cock, before starting to suck teasingly at his balls.

“I’ve always liked this sonata.” Mallory muses.

Bond pauses.

“Now it will be will rather difficult to listen to while in polite company.”

Bond smiles around his mouthful and keeps going. Sliding his left hand up Mallory’s thigh, over hip and around to cup Mallory’s arse. The involuntary movement that Mallory makes causes him to arch forward into Bond’s mouth. Was that a hint of a groan? Bond can’t tell. He hopes.

Bond grins and plays his right hand across Mallory’s stomach, feeling the motion as the man inhales. Bond presses a kiss to his cock, then his navel, working his way slowly up, until he’s hovering right in front of Mallory, only a few inches from his mouth.

It’d be so tempting to just kiss him, as Mallory merely gazes back at him impassively. Bond wraps a hand around Mallory’s cock as he closes the distance between them. Mallory surges in his hand as his lips part, and Bond’s tongue maneuvers its way inside.

Mallory kisses languidly at first, but then Bond realizes he’s more like a bed of embers waking into life. Bond leans into the kiss, stoking the fire till it’s roaring.

Mallory’s arms remain stretched out along the back of the sofa. Bond seduces the man’s mouth, curling his fingers around Mallory. _There_ , at last Bond has his moan as Mallory arches up into his hand. His body shudders silently, and then there’s warmth coating Bond’s hand as he drags every last drop from the man.

Mallory sighs, and it’s almost the sweetest sound Bond has ever heard. Nothing will surpass that moan.

He sits back, smiling at Mallory.

“You kiss well.” Mallory muses. “I suppose you would, considering how many jobs it comes in handy.”

“How would you rate my skills, sir?”

“Fair.” Mallory considers this as he stands and reaches for his trousers. Bond takes the brief moment to enjoy the sight of his bare arse before it’s covered again.

“Only fair?” Bond leans back into the sofa. Clearly he’s not trying hard enough.

“You’ll have to work harder to achieve more than fair,” Mallory tells him, zipping up his trousers.

“Is that a challenge, sir?”

“If you like.” Mallory straightens his jacket and glances down at him. “You know, most people would assume you were trying to get in good with your superior, trying to persuade me to give you a leg up.”

Bond rests one arm along the back of sofa. He fancies he can feel the warmth of Mallory’s arm still lingering there. “What do you think?”

“I think you need another mission.” Mallory observes.

“Do you have one for me, sir?”

“As a matter of a fact,” Mallory goes over to his desk. “I do.”

Bond smiles.


End file.
